


Fight To Restore

by sabbypandawan



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Glee
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-02-24 17:27:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2589968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabbypandawan/pseuds/sabbypandawan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world altered by a blessing of a curse, there is one male human in every generation to defend the mortal realm against evil forces threatening to destroy it. That is, until there was suddenly two. Kurt Hummel tried hard to fit in, to never let anyone discover his secret except for those in his most private circle of friends, but when Blaine Anderson comes along and flips his world on its axis, he discovers not all battles are between good and evil. And that sometimes, they are, no matter how much you wish they weren't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paint These Walls In Pitchfork Red

**Author's Note:**

> This will be set in the world of Buffy The Vampire Slayer, though I don't think you will need to have watched the show to understand it. Just in case there's any confusion though, I have an info page on my tumblr (sabbypandawan) where I will be updating and explaining important terminology. If you have questions though, you can naturally always ask me.
> 
> There will also be time jumps, but I'll be giving you dates so you don't get confused.

He was lying curled up on his side on the bed, his back turned to the door and the window. The soft wheezing and whistling of the wind outside was the only music fitting his current emotional state; meek for now, but brittle with a sense of foreboding.

He knew he should at least _try_ to hate him. He knew he wasn't the person he fell in love with anymore. He knew he had to go back out there and find him, go against his very nature, and save the world once again. He was sure he would get there, too, but right now he felt he had the right to wallow in the emptiness inside of him until he started to _actually feel_ the pain. Only then could he convert it into the anger he needed to win this battle. Because knowing and actually understanding, having comprehension seep through him, are two separate things.

Unfortunately, this was a sentiment not shared by the miniature Wyndam-Pryce currently knocking on his door, like he had every 10 minutes in an attempt to get him to start making plans.

"LEAVE ME THE _FUCK_ ALONE, NICK!"

"Kurt, I would love to, and I understand what you're goi-"

The brunette yanked the door open, a dangerous glint the only thing giving his now-dull glasz eyes, currently an alarming shade of stormy dark gray, a splash of their usual vibrancy.

"You. Understand. Nothing. NOTHING!" His voice broke on the last word, and he was anticipating the sob he so desperately wanted to come bubbling up his throat. But it didn't. He didn't bother taking a deep breath before speaking again, because the last thing he wanted to be was calm. He needed to be riled up; needed that fire only rage can instill in him.

"Your honey is currently sitting on the couch downstairs, probably convincing my Dad to try some English fucking Breakfast tea with sugar and milk, while mine is out there causing all kinds of mayhem. Excuse me if I need a moment or two to myself in order to get myself together so I can kill the man I love." Were those tears pricking behind his eyelids? God, he hoped so.

"I'm sorry, Kurt, I am. None of us knew this would happen." There was sadness in his eyes, only a little, as most of Nick's expression was schooled into that steely professionalism he had been taught by his father. _Watcher's handbook, rule number one: never let your emotions guide your decisions. Or something like that._

"Save your sorries, give me two uninterrupted hours and I'll go out there and... do what I have to do. I just... Before I can do that, I need to die a little, too."

"No! Absolutely not. I will do anything I can, but I beg of you, don't lose yourself to this," the dark-haired young man started pleading with Kurt.

"Can you bring my boyfriend back?", the boy asked in a soft voice, barely more than a whisper. "Can you return my soulmate the very thing that made him just that? Can you give me a reason why I _shouldn't_ lose myself aside from my sacred duty, which, to be quite frank with you, I have become _sick and tired_ of?"

Nick just soundlessly mouthed words. Bless him, Kurt loved him dearly, but if you looked up "emotional cripple" on Google, there would be page after page filled with Nick's pictures, and probably an urbandictionary entry as well.

"I thought so. Now, get out of here, get out of my sight and don't return until exactly two hours have passed or you will wish I would have let Blaine bash you in and rip your head off." His voice was devoid of emotion as he uttered the threat, like his insides. Kurt was well-aware of the fact that he was being tactless, that his newly-titled "ex" was very close friends with Nick, but he just couldn't give a fuck at the moment.

He needed to break down before he could build himself back up and bury Blaine under the rubble. The numbness had to fade, so some of the fight he was usually so full of could be restored. Digging out his journal, he thought remembering might be a good start. He read the first entry as memories started flooding his mind.

 

 

_**2 years prior: August 14** **th** **, 2011** _

 

It was just another night, which meant Kurt Hummel would be found at Lima's hottest place-to-be for teenagers, the Loch Ness. With his perfectly coiffed chestnut hair, his milky-white complexion, eyes that changed color from blue to green to yellow to gray depending on his mood, and being someone of excellent fashion taste and unwilling to compromise that part of himself, he had worked hard to perfect the art of blending in, just so nobody bothered talking to him. This was necessary, as it left the inconspicuous brunette free to do what he always came to do: observe. Also, Nick was with him and most people thought the older man with the dark-brown straight hair and brown eyes always seen around "the queer" was his boyfriend, which effectively disgusted the community of the small town in Ohio too much to attempt a conversation, or even want to be spotted in their general vicinity. If it didn't fit his cause perfectly, Kurt would probably be upset. But picking vampires out of the vast mass of moving bodies around him demanded concentration; concentration he didn't have when he had to talk to people and awkwardly try to let girls down easy or snap at homophobic assholes who had to maintain their tainted honor and assert their straightness, now that they had been seen with him, by putting him down in public.

"Look at those two," Nick whispered to him and nodded in the direction of a short guy with curly dark hair and a blonde girl. The guy was wearing a gray button-up shirt with a bottle green bowtie and a matching cardigan, paired with gray skinny jeans, which were rolled up so his ankles were showing, and green loafers without socks. The girl was dressed in a very cute black petticoat dress with red polka dots and her feet were covered by heeled black Mary Janes with red bows on the strap. They were dancing and twirling in total disregard of the song currently blasting through the P.A., "Low" by Flo Rida.

"Which one? They both kinda look like they escaped a 50's movie. Seriously, open a fashion magazine every once in a while," Kurt sighed as he observed the pair. "Or do you think they're a couple on the prowl?"

Nick slurped his drink, contemplating. "I'm not sure, I'm thinking it's more likely the girl is pure. He keeps whispering to her when he pulls her in and he's leading the dance. Look at their interaction, not just their clothing," the Watcher advised his charge. The latter simply rolled his eyes; the way he acted, people would assume Nick was 47 instead of 23. However, he was aware that this kind of behavior came with the responsibility the job held. Being a Slayer should put him right up there with his young Watcher, and Nick often marveled at how Kurt managed to maintain the attitude and, sometimes, immaturity of the 17-year-old he was.

"Stop trying to look at your brain, and stop thinking about how I'm way too serious for my age, and just do it. Shut out everything and focus all your senses on them. Then tell me what you see," Nick instructed him. And so Kurt did just that.

What he saw was... interesting. Yes, the clothes suggested they were both vampires. The way the man... well, boy... was openly flirting with the girl should have been suspicious, too, like Nick already pointed out. Only it wasn't, at least not the way it usually was. He had seen enough vampires seducing humans to follow them into some dark alley to know that either this guy had no game at all or had a different agenda; his beautiful hazel eyes didn't hold any traces of lust, the blood kind or any other. What irked him most, though, was the spark that shot up his spine and the warmth spreading through his entire body when he looked up and met Kurt's gaze for a second. _That is definitely new_ , Kurt thought before focusing his attention on the other person dancing.

The girl had her arms around his shoulders now and was giggling, no, throwing her head back in laughter and coyly playing with her hair. For anyone around them, she was probably so obvious it was disgusting but then there were her eyes, too. And there was the malicious glint, the bloodlust he had been looking for, yellowing her irises ever so slightly for split-seconds only.

"Point for the Slayer while the Watcher has yet to score. She's the bad egg in the mix, not him. I don't know what he's playing at, though, because he doesn't find her alluring at all from what I've seen so far," Kurt informed the man beside him when suddenly, the guy grabbed the girl's hand and led her outside. "Shit," he muttered and jumped up, running outside, grabbing the stake hidden in his sleeve. When he reached the alley around the corner, a popular place vampires frequented with their prey, he heard the loud banging noise of metal on concrete, probably from trash cans being tipped over in a struggle if his experience was anything to go by, and then bone on stone.

 

Stake at the ready, he made to jump into the fight when he realized what was happening.

 

The curly-haired boy had the snarling girl in a headlock. Her once-beautiful face was now scrunched up around the nose and forehead and adorned with bumps, yellow eyes and fangs, exposing her true nature. When Kurt's gaze darted back to the boy, he saw an expression of calm focus, as opposed to the usual terror humans sported at the sight, as he repeatedly rammed the vampire's head into the brick walls enclosing the alleyway while she fought against his hold. He shoved her into the ground and stamped hard on her face; a crunch that would have been sickening to anyone not in the business echoed around them as her nose broke and she let out a feral scream. The guy then pulled a stake from the folds of where his jeans were rolled up and brought it down hard, piercing the girl's chest and heart and reducing her to rubble.

Dusting off his hands and clothes, he turned to a gaping Kurt, and smiled, and _wow, hello there._

"Hey, you must be Kurt! Thanks for checking up on me; I wasn't sure if I was as good at playing straight as I thought I'd be, and if she had caught on and led me into a trap, well, your help would have been greatly appreciated. But I guess I'm a good actor after all."

His voice was deep, but not overly so, and cheerful, and smooth like honey, and along with the unexpected turn of events and _that god-damn smile,_ Kurt was rendered speechless. Which was a rare occurrence. As in, it never happened. He prided himself on always having a sarcastic remark or two to spit out.

Nick chose that moment to catch up with Kurt, resting his hands on his knees as he doubled over in an effort to catch his breath.

"I'll never... smoke pipe... ever... again..." When his charge didn't give the usual snappy response, he looked up at the scene before him. Kurt was standing there, his mouth slightly open and eyes wide as he regarded the guy they had been watching earlier.

"Who – what - are you?", Kurt asked in a slightly shaky voice. The guy laughed jovially.

"'Who' is a good place to start. Sorry, I forgot my non-existent manners. Blaine Anderson, and I believe we are... colleagues." He held out his hand, and after a moment, Kurt hesitantly shook it. There was that tiny spark again, shooting up his spine at the contact, but he ignored it; there were more pressing matters.

"What do you mean? Do you mean you are..."

Blaine nodded. "A Slayer, yes," he clarified. "I was sent here because apparently, there have been signs of some major uprising. My..." He shuffled his feet and looked down, and when he spoke again, his voice was soft and vulnerable. "My Watcher couldn't get a clear interpretation of the signs before she was killed. But whatever it is, it is big."

A throat was cleared roughly behind them and both boys turned around to look at Nick, now back to his normal breathing.

"Another male Slayer? That's not possible. When Andrew Wells cast the spell, it was the original version the Shadowmen crafted, altered to fit a male subject, meaning there was a Chosen _One male_ Slayer," he explained haughtily, looking down on Blaine with the arrogance it had taken Kurt weeks to decipher as an act. He assumed the curly-haired boy would shrink on himself like he had, but was further surprised and very impressed when he turned his nose up in answer and replied just as haughtily, "Yes, it is possible. Buffy Summers and Kendra, and then later, when Kendra was killed by Drusilla, Faith Lehane. Ring a bell? Wow, if I have to work with you, the Earth is doomed."

"Listen here, you brat, you _will_ respect me!", the scorned man hissed. "I am well aware of Miss Summers' story, but Kurt never died! I don't know what your scheme is, and I'm not interested in finding out either, so you have two op-"

"Nick, hold on." Both men shifted their gaze towards Kurt, who in turn was looking down at the ground, wrapping his arms around his own chest. Nick knew that gesture of insecurity all too well by now.

"Kurt?" Upon hearing his name uttered in Blaine's already too familiar voice, the coiffed teenager raised his head, chewing on his bottom lip.

"Well, technically..."

Kurt never intended to tell Nick about this. He knew his Watcher would probably be devastated if he found out, even if things turned out fine, because he technically should have been there to prevent it.

"Kurt? Please, I need to know what happened and if we can trust that boy," Nick implored his charge, who swallowed hard before opening his mouth to speak. Blaine just looked at him with an unreadable expression; it ticked him off because he never had trouble reading anybody.

"Okay, first of all please, don't freak out. Nothing I'm about to tell you is your fault in any way." He closed his eyes for a second to collect his thoughts, then proceeded with his tale, including the stuff Nick already knew in order to clue Blaine in. No logical explanation sprang to mind as to why he trusted this guy he met not even 20 minutes ago, but living in the world he was a part of, you kind of learn to forgo logic and trust your instincts.

"Back when I was first Called... well, you both know the drill. There were the nightmares, the sudden burst of strength, increased agility and reflexes, heightened senses... But no one was there to explain what was going on to me, so naturally, I was freaking out." Addressing Blaine, he added, "My original Watcher was murdered before she could get to me and it took a couple of days for the Council to notice something was up and send someone new."

"I'm sorry," Blaine muttered, but Kurt just waved him off. He wasn't proud of it, but after two years of fighting and death, he was pretty desensitized.

"Thanks. It's not like I knew her, though – not that that makes it okay."

When the curly-haired teen smiled a little, his stomach did a weird flip. _Okay, I need to continue before I do something I'll really regret, like jump his bones right here, in this dirty alley, in front of Nick._ "Anyway, the second night, I had a particularly freaky nightmare and when I woke up, I was... thrumming. I had this energy and the fear only made it that much more potent, or maybe it was the other way around, I'm not sure. I sneaked out and started walking through the streets of Lima to the cemetery because I always feel the need to talk to my Mom when I'm upset. When I got there, I was attacked. There is a pond near the chapel, and someone pushed me into it face-first and held me down. I'm not too sure what happened after that, kinda dying makes your perception a little fuzzy around the edges." It was a feeble attempt at a joke; Blaine even chuckled briefly, but Nick was white as a sheet and appeared to be completely aghast by what his Slayer was recounting.

"So... you..." The dark-haired man couldn't seem to even form the words. If it hadn't been a year and a half ago, and Kurt hadn't gotten used to the fact that he was going to die an untimely death, and hadn't started counting himself amongst the lucky ones that he wasn't rotting away somewhere so far, he probably would be a blubbering mess now, so he couldn't really blame him. Plus, he had had his "I'm-not-coping-so-I-joined-the-Skanks-and-just-smoke-all-day-so-please-help-me"-phase. He still had the lip ring to prove it, though thankfully, no tattoos of Ryan Seacrest.

"Yeah, I died," Kurt confirmed quietly. "It couldn't have been more than a minute. I still don't know why I didn't stay that way, either, I just remember this weird brownish-green light and a woman saying something, I think it was in a different language. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. At first I was too scared to even allow myself to think about it, and then it just seemed kind of redundant to bring it up. I was thinking something like this," he pointed to Blaine, who was silently watching their exchange, "might happen, but I wasn't sure, and I didn't want to burden you. I'm sorry," he repeated, cautiously peering up under his lashes to check his Watcher's reaction; he anticipated a shit storm of some kind.

But Nick just slumped against the brick wall behind him and buried his face in his hands, wiping it, and then ran his fingers through his hair and held them there. Kurt stepped towards him.

"Hey, it's okay. Really, I'm fine, right? I couldn't annoy you half as much if I weren't," he tried to cheer him up, and his Watcher gave him a weak smile, which disappeared quickly though to be replaced by a pain-stricken expression.

"Kurt, you were dead. How can you be so flippant about this? Your heart stopped beating, your lungs stopped breathing, oh my God..."

The Slayer engulfed the man in a hug, mindful not to squeeze too tightly in order not to crush him, and he returned the embrace. "I'm alright, Nick, I'm alright. Stop being such a drama queen. You know it's serious when I, of all people, say that." This time, he actually got a tiny laugh out of him. The glasz-eyed teen called that a victory. They stayed wrapped in each other's arms for a while until there was some awkward shuffling and throat-clearing behind them.

"I hate to break this moment, but uh... Maybe we should get out of the dark alley and go, I don't know, somewhere they have appropriate lighting and coffee? And not anyone could walk in or by and overhear?" Blaine suggested carefully.

Cheeks heating up to reveal his trademark blush, Kurt pulled back and looked the other Slayer in the eyes, giving him a shy smile.

"Sure. We need to talk logistics anyway. We can go to my place, my father and step-mother are on a campaign in D.C., and my step-brother is at his girlfriend's house, so it's empty," he replied. The other boy nodded in agreement. Nick, however, seemed to be averse to the suggestion, judging from the frown adorning his face.

"Why not go to my house, where we don't run the risk of exposure?"

Kurt laughed out loud at that, and Blaine grinned at the sound. "Like I'd go to your place when mine is free! No offense, Nicky, but everything about your house _screams_ 'old person who doesn't know how to have fun', and my allergies are triggered by all the dust that comes out of those ancient tomes you keep digging out of God-knows-where. Also, I need to change, and I have no viable clothing options at yours. Neither does Blaine, for that matter."

Blaine nodded his consent again. "Yeah, I wasn't sure if there's a dress code at that stinky bar-club-hybrid-thing, which there painfully obviously isn't, but fuck, wouldn't I like to get out of these grandpa clothes, too." Kurt cursed himself for the mental images which popped up when he heard that and the blush which had _just_ disappeared crept back up. "And maybe have a hot shower and stay in a bed where I don't have to occupy my time guessing the original shade of the sheets. There's so many so much better things to do in beds. Or what do you say, gorgeous?" Did he just wink at Kurt?! Wait, _gorgeous?_

Nick just spluttered indignantly at the insinuations as Kurt led the way to his car, his usually alabaster skin flaming red, and Blaine followed with a look of innocence that fooled no one.

 


	2. Should I Be Afraid?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say, PG-13 this chapter mostly for language and allusions to teenage boys being teenage boys with raging hormones.

**_Night of August 14th, 2011_ **

Luckily, Kurt's house was only a few blocks away and it wasn't too long before he was unlocking the door. Nick entered without a second thought but Blaine just stood awkwardly on the porch.

"Well?" he asked suspiciously as he stood by the doorway and waited for the other Slayer to pass the threshold. Why didn't he just walk in? Had he misread him? No one was getting an invitation into his home after dark, that much Kurt had learned over the past two years.

"Nothing, it's just... this is so nice," Blaine mumbled and walked past Kurt into the hallway, who let out an involuntary sigh of relief. The sound, unfortunately, didn't go unnoticed and Blaine smirked.

"Did you think I was some Oscar-winning vampire waiting for his invite?"

Kurt chuckled breathlessly and nodded. "Actually, yeah. It wouldn't be the first time I unintentionally invited one in." His admission was met by a wide, toothy grin and crinkled eyes and he hurriedly changed the subject before he could be mocked. "I believe you said something about coffee and a shower? You can use the one in my bedroom, I'll take the one that belongs with the master bedroom. NICK!", he added in a shout, "CAN YOU PLEASE MAKE SOME COFFEE? WE'RE GONNA TAKE A SHOWER!"

Blaine started snickering and Nick outright laughed from the kitchen.

"YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN! SEPARATE ONES! Assholes," Kurt cursed under his breath as he led the boy upstairs. He stopped in front of his bedroom door and swallowed.

A guy who wasn't his step-brother or Watcher was going into his room. Which has his bed in it. An, apparently, gay and extremely attractive guy.

"Kurt? Not that I don't like admiring the intricate patterns of your door, artfully hidden away by what I think is sheet music to every song from 'Wicked', but I'd really like to take these off. Fuck if I wasn't rather naked than wearing this crap." Blaine pointed at his attire. And then Kurt registered what he had said.

He was going to take his clothes off. He was going to be naked. In his room. The bearer of a penis that wasn't his own.

He let out a very unmanly squeak at the thought, at which Blaine started laughing again.

"You're fucking adorable, do you know that?" he said in a low voice and leaned against the door-frame, looking up at Kurt with a knowing grin. "Mind telling me where your mind wandered off to?"

The taller boy just shook his head like a wet dog to clear his mind. "No, really, nothing to tell, I just zone out sometimes," he explained nervously. "Uhh, yeah, that's a thing I totally do," he added upon seeing the skepticism in Blaine's features, and then proceeded to curse himself immediately after for that. Nice, tell the hot guy you seem to be crushing on and with whom you _might_ stand a chance that you're a Class-A-weirdo. That won't scare him off.

Blaine pursed his lips, but the corners of his mouth twitched in what was undoubtedly another suppressed laugh. He cleared his throat and stepped into Kurt's personal space, crowding him against the wall.

"You know, the showers don't _have_ to be separate. Save water, shower with a friend, all that crap?" he said in a sultry voice, his lips barely an inch from Kurt's ear. The latter shivered at the hot breath ghosting across his skin, and hated himself a little more for even considering for a second as he was assaulted by images; delicious, so delicious images, of the other boy's naked, olive skin, glistening as water cascaded down on them, in such stark contrast to his own milky white complexion.

"Uh, I-I don't know, m-m-maybe s-some other time," he stuttered and laughed nervously, moving to the side to go around the other boy.

"Alright. I'll hold you to that," Kurt heard Blaine tease before he shut the door behind him and made his way to his parents' bedroom to clean up as well.

He finished quickly so as not to let his mind wander back to the hazel-eyed teen and the suggestions his voice had held. He had to adjust the spray to the coldest setting as it was, and he didn't think he could look him in the eye ever again if he took care of his... arising problem, let alone focus enough to fight the forces of evil alongside him. He toweled himself off, rubbing his skin rigorously in an attempt to get some warmth back in case Blaine or Nick decided to touch him and find him ice cold, which, in his book, was a dead giveaway for “I just had to kill a particularly stubborn boner”. Then he cursed himself again because he noticed he had forgotten to bring any clothes, at all, in his haste to escape the stirrings the other boy had caused in his belly. Hoping Blaine would try to enjoy a hot non-motel room bath for as long as he could, he knocked timidly before entering with the towel wrapped around his waist.

And almost let it fall.

Blaine was standing there looking through one of Kurt's drawers, his back to the door and humming quietly as he was looking for whatever. His hair was dripping wet and he was clad only in white boxer-briefs, which hugged his ass just so and _damn what did I just torture myself for, body? Control your urges!_

Kurt gulped loudly and that's when Blaine became aware of his presence, turning around unashamedly to smirk at him. “W-why are you going through my dresser?” the tall teen stammered and felt his self-loathing flare just a little more because of it.

“I was borrowing a shirt, forgot to pack one when I planned my excursion to the cemetery after that ridiculous club thing. I wasn't going to get teased by a fucking bloodsucker for what I was wearing there.”

Kurt stared incredulously, having all but forgotten his and Blaine's state of undress. “Are you serious right now? You care about what vampires think of your clothing?” Not even Kurt had quite reached that level of vanity yet. “And why didn't you just ask?!”

Blaine, in turn, was looking at Kurt like he was slow on the uptake. “Yes? Of course I care. I want them to know I'm the biggest, baddest... anything in town. I want their hearts to beat out of their chests in fear when they think of me.”

“They're _dead._ They don't even have a heartbeat anymore!” Kurt snapped back indignantly, the sound of which made Blaine smirk once again.

“Exactly. That's how scared I want them to be of me.”

Kurt had nothing to retaliate with for the second time that day, so he just huffed and walked over to the dresser, pulling out boxers, sweatpants, and two soft cotton shirts, throwing Blaine one of them wordlessly. When he moved to return to the other bathroom once more to get dressed, he felt a hand curling around his hip before it trailed to his lower back, the fingertips trying to edge their way under the towel covering Kurt's privates. He jumped and yelped and turned his head to glare at Blaine. “What the fuck do you think you're doing?” he hissed. He was already sick of that arrogant bastard. And he'd seemed so nice at first, too.

“I was going to thank you. Oh well, if you don't want to...” The curly-haired teen mock-pouted and then resolved into laughter once more, surely at least partially induced by Kurt's flabbergasted and enraged facial expression. The taller teen just stormed out of the room and pulled on his clothes quickly, making his way downstairs to meet Nick in the kitchen. Thankfully, Blaine hadn't made it down yet, though Kurt couldn't shake the feeling that it was due to the fact that he was snooping some more.

“He needs to live at your place,” Kurt announced without preamble, while Nick just eyed him like he was completely off his hanger.

“Uh, why?”

“He's going to need a place to stay other than some ratty motel, and food, and clothes, and you have a house completely funded by the Council. Besides, I can hardly go up to my Dad and tell him we're going to be housing a complete stranger who fights evil, which, by the way, is what I do every night he catches me out of bed, and oh yeah, I'm a Slayer.” Kurt crossed his arms, daring Nick to argue with his reasoning because he knew it was flawless. They had a staring match until the Watcher gave in with a sigh.

“Fine, he can move in with me.”

“Sweet!” they heard a voice call from the doorway, causing Kurt to have to resort to his Slayer strength in order to not roll his eyes. “Do you get cable? I haven't watched TV in ages.”

“Hate to burst your bubble, honey, but he doesn't even own a TV,” Kurt replied in a sickeningly sweet voice in lieu of Nick, who in turn shuffled awkwardly in his seat. The pale Slayer gasped in fake horror. “Nooo... No, Nick! No way! It can't be! You're shallow like the rest of us!”

“It's just... Just for educational purposes... The news... And so I know what the hell you're talking about most of the time.”

Blaine plopped down, hard, in one of the kitchen chairs then. “This is all very sweet,” he drawled, “you two make a very cute couple.” His words caused Nick to choke on the sip of tea he'd just taken, and Kurt to emit a strangled, drawn-out “eurgh” sound.

“Ew, Blaine! That's like... That would be like incest.”

“Really? Wouldn't have pegged you for the type, but whatever floats your boat, man.”

“Oh haha, did you come up with that all on your own or did your great-great-grandmother, the Wicked Witch of the West, help you?”

“The Wicked Witch of the West is dead, Kurt, and she didn't leave behind any heirs,” Nick cut in seriously, causing the other two boys to look at him, dumbfounded.

“Wait – she's real?” Blaine looked stunned. It suited him much better than that smug, arrogant, sexy little grin he sported when he teased him, Kurt thought, and then backtracked. Sexy? Sure, he's attractive, but personality is important to you, his conscience reminded him.

“She is. So I'm assuming you're fine staying at my house? I get the first shower, though,” Nick quickly added, causing Blaine to groan.

“Man, you better not use up all the hot water, or I will use my divine... chosen... whatever powers to kick your ass to warm up afterward. Doubt it'll be enough of a fight for me to actually warm up, but you get the gist.”

“I'll have you know I'm highly trained in all martial arts as well as-”

“Okay!” Kurt cut in. “So, what are we going to tell people who Blaine is? Your little brother is a little far off, you don't look remotely the same...”

“Thank God,” Blaine muttered under his breath, causing both Nick and Kurt to glare at him. He had the decency to fake a sheepish look, at least. “Why do we need to tell people anything at all?” he inquired, instead of staying on the topic.

“Because they're gonna ask. This isn't the biggest town, and while there's always a few new transfers every year, you've already established that you just love to pull focus,” Kurt remarked drily, causing Nick to chuckle.

“Transfer? New year? You don't expect me to-”

“Enroll and go to high school? Well, it's the best way to blend in. Besides, how old are you?” Kurt was curious now. He expected Blaine was probably older than him, but a year or two at most, so he could easily fit in at school.

What he didn't expect was Blaine awkwardly shuffling his feet and looking down at the ground when faced with the simple question.

“Sixteen,” he finally provided. “Seventeen in February.” Kurt tried hard not to gape. He looked so... mature. Not old or anything, but like he was well on his way to becoming a man, unlike him with his pudgy, red baby cheeks and freckles and high-pitched voice.

“Then you should be in school anyway,” Nick piped up. “You're younger than Kurt. You haven't visited a classroom in a while, I presume, based on your reaction?”

“I have. I didn't run away until a few weeks ago, after school let out in L.A., but... I wasn't really planning on wasting my time with academics anymore.” The curly-haired teen sighed in surrender. “I'll be a Junior come September, I guess,” he relented.

Kurt groaned internally and sent a silent prayer to whomever was listening that they wouldn't end up sharing any classes. As if reading his thoughts, Nick spoke up again.

“Chin up, now! You might even share a few classes with Kurt! And I'm the librarian, so if there's anything you need, you can come see me anytime. It's not like a lot of students ever come in there.” Kurt would have laughed at his sour tone if he hadn't already had to suffer through so many tirades about young adults not nearly reading enough.

“Alright. Look, can we talk about this tomorrow?” Blaine was clearly still uncomfortable. It didn't do anything to keep Kurt's curiosity from piquing. What was so bad about school? Sure, it was boring and didn't challenge him in the least, and before he became the Slayer, he was bullied a lot at his old school, and again once he transferred to McKinley, but once people realized he could knock them out with one punch after a nasty run-in with a jock twice his size named Karofsky, they'd generally left him alone.

“Of course. I should get going anyway. Do you want to stay here tonight or come to my house already?” Blaine glanced at Kurt quickly. “I'll stay for the night.”

“You should, too,” the pale boy advised Nick. “I don't want you out there alone at night. It's been ugly with the bumpies lately. You can take Dad's and Carole's room down here, as usual, Blaine can go into Finn's, I'll stay in my own bed.” Kurt was deliberately placing Blaine in his step-brother's room, because he knew how much it stank of unwashed laundry and football equipment. It was mean, but he was convinced after earlier, the boy deserved to be punished just a little, and possibly put in his place, if such a thing were possible.

Nick agreed and shuffled off to get ready for bed, getting a change of clothes from Kurt as well while the boy in question showed his new coworker to Finn's room. As soon as he opened the door, the taller teen expected Blaine to start coughing and retching, but it didn't happen. Instead, he smirked, whispered a “good night, sweetcheeks” that shouldn't have sounded sultry, but did, and went to bed. Kurt assumed he had been toughened up by being on the run for so long. It didn't occur to him until he was lying in his own bed, all warm and snug, that he didn't know what Blaine was on the run from.

 


	3. A Constant Frown Upon My Back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just warnings for explicit language and descriptions of violence this time, though it's nothing too heavy.

_ **August 2011 (still)**_

Blaine was glad that he'd quickly gotten used to the smell in the room he was subjected to that night. It wasn't the worst smell he'd come across in the past two months – hell, since he'd been Called, really, he had to put up with the stink of demon intestines and such. However, he had been hoping for a little more comfort, now that he was in an actual house, and that of an ally to boot. Well, he thought to himself as he climbed into the, thankfully, clean bed; at least he got a nice, hot shower out of it, a rarity on the road. And he figured that Nick's house would have a spare room he could make his own. He felt happy and sad at the same time when the thought struck him, a weird longing making his throat catch. His own room. That wasn't something he'd had in a long time now.

He forced himself to stir his mind in another direction, and ended up contemplating Kurt. There was no denying there was an instant connection there, but he had no clue whether it was only physical or more. The boy was attractive, sure, and witty and sassy, all things Blaine could appreciate, but also incredibly uptight to the point of striking him as aloof and a little arrogant.

Deciding to keep his speculations to himself until he had a little more to go on, and not judge rashly like so many people tended to do with him, he cleared his mind with the help of the meditation techniques his Watcher had taught him; techniques he needed so he could get to sleep without medication after that fateful night. He imagined his power as a dot, a red ball of energy in his abdomen, where he was taught the core of his strength was located. It was coiling uneasily at first, writhing like it, too, was unable to find its peace, but he focused his inhalation to make it billow like a wave, and then come back down, a perfect circle. From there it spread all over his body, enveloping him in a warm, comforting cocoon he could almost touch if he just reached out. It helped fight his thoughts, like they were some external entity pushing into his mind and the cocoon was his armor, keeping them at bay. That way, it didn't take long for sleep to claim him. However, when it did, it was restless, images flashing behind his eyelids in rapid succession until he awoke again, sweat-drenched with a shout of phantom pain, his hazel eyes darting all over the room, looking for an intruder that wasn't there.

 

* * *

 

Kurt, just on the brink of sleep, became aware again when he heard Blaine yelling in the room across the hall. Quickly scrambling to his feet, he padded over to Finn's door barefoot, with a stake at the ready. What he saw when he opened the door was confusing, because it was only Blaine. He was panting, heavy and loud in the room, and his eyes were still crusted with sleep, but strangely cognizant; they were searching, but it wasn't the kind of searching people did when they didn't know what they were looking for exactly. There was something specific he expected to see.

“What happened?” Kurt asked as he strode across the room, checking the closet, behind the curtains and under the bed for what could have awoken Blaine so violently, and, for good measure, in the drawers.

Blaine remained silent, slowly regaining his breath. “Nightmare,” he finally croaked. Kurt stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate, but the insolent brat didn't seem to think that he had to provide an explanation for nearly giving Kurt a heart attack in the middle of the night.

“Well?”

“None of your business. Now get the fuck out.”

Kurt blinked, disbelief slowly taking over his features and coloring his cheeks.

“Excuse me? You're a fucking guest in _my_ house. And I'd rather know what set you off so I can start preparing my defense.” Especially if that something are your psycho tendencies, Kurt added in his mind.

Blaine rolled out of bed and started stalking towards Kurt, backing him against the wall. The pale boy wasn't nervous; he didn't know why his chest was fluttering or why he had to focus so much on keeping his breathing even, or, more accurately, refused to acknowledge why, but he knew he could overpower the smaller Slayer any time, if he wanted to.

The other boy's face came closer as he held Kurt's hands captive against the wall, bracketing his legs with his own in his misguided belief he was actually a match for Kurt, and that he couldn't escape any time he wanted. “It. Was. A. Nightmare,” he reiterated, emphasizing each word carefully as if he thought Kurt was slow. It made him seethe. “And I know I'm a guest in your precious house,” he sneered, “but the only reason I'm tolerating you is because I made a promise to a very, very kind lady; don't flatter yourself in thinking that I actually enjoy being here. So stay the fuck away from me and let me do my job.”

He pushed away from the taller teen, raising an expectant eyebrow at him, and Kurt was torn between kicking his ass right then and there, or... well, kicking his ass right then and there. There really wasn't a question about how he wanted to proceed, but a voice that sounded annoyingly like Nick scolded him in a Cockney accent that he only ever used if he was flustered.

Thus, being the mature guy he was, he settled for sticking his tongue out at Blaine, and going back to his own room with his head held high. He was certain about one thing though – he would find out what it was Blaine was hiding, and if it was the last thing he did.

 

* * *

 

Over the next few days, Kurt did his best to get in Blaine's good graces, figuring that was the best approach to get answers out of him. He was so sweet and welcoming that he made his own teeth ache, actually.

“Oh, Blaine, you don't need to do that, I'm happy to do the dishes. Yes, I know I already cooked, but seriously, it's fine, I like it. You just relax.”

“Oh no, that sounds so horrible! What happened next? Did you show them who's boss?”

“Well, you see, I thought you might still have trouble getting around, so I thought I'd take you for coffee and show you around town. My treat, naturally.”

“I brought this for your new room, just to liven it up a bit. It looks terribly bare.”

Blaine seemed surprised at every gesture, and grateful, his eyebrows shooting up to form perfect triangles on his forehead every time; just infinitesimally, just for maybe a millisecond before he schooled his face back into a careful mask, but Kurt caught it every time. It made him wonder how long it had been since Blaine actually had someone to care for him, which in turn made a weird kind of empty ache he refused to dwell on blossom in his chest.

 

“So, what's this school like anyway?” Blaine asked as they strolled through the pitch-black corridors, having broken in after dark. Classes weren't set to start for another three weeks, but Kurt knew from experience that some rare specimen of teachers liked to prepare for the new school year a few weeks before, and generally used their offices to do so – he knew this, because he'd had to save them from a vampire ambush last summer. Nobody talked about it, least of all to him, but he did notice that no teachers ever stayed after sunset anymore.

“It's okay,” Kurt explained. “Just your regular public school in a small, rural, and desperately homophobic town in Ohio.”

Blaine shot him a skeptical look, making Kurt laugh and shake his head.

“Okay, it was fucking hell before I was Called,” he admitted. “I was scared all the time, I got slushied, tossed in dumpsters, locker shoves, sometimes locked into them, wedgies, swirlies, and there were a couple of neanderthals who made it their mission to make my life a living hell on top of that, throwing pee balloons at me and nailing my lawn furniture to the roof. One of them even stalked me. But I know I can deck them without breaking a sweat now, so... it's definitely better.”

He tried to sound playful and casual and unaffected, like he was above and beyond the physical and emotional torment he'd had to endure, but the other Slayer just looked at him silently, his eyes sparkling with knowledge even in the dark.

“Tell me you beat the living crap out of them.”

“No,” the blue-eyed teen replied. “I refuse to sink to their level. I let them know very clearly what would happen if they continued, and it didn't hurt that my dad was elected for Congress last year either.”

Blaine just hummed as they continued along the rows of lockers.

“I think that's bullshit,” he finally commented, making Kurt look up at him, confused. “You _are_ better than them. You've probably saved their lives countless times, and they don't even know about it. So, the way I see it, you could knock them around a bit and it still wouldn't make you half as bad as them.”

“You live by some fucked up moral standards. Just because I have the capability to save their lives and have done so on occasion, I get a free pass at them? I get to be the thing of danger they need to be afraid of? What kinda logic is that?”

“Pretty good logic, if you ask me,” Blaine answered flippantly. “They're still better off than when you just let them die, and people like them will never learn, unless we teach them a lesson. I've had my share of experiences with being openly gay in a small town, so I actually know what I'm talking about.”

“Wha-”

“Don't even ask. It's none of your fucking business.”

“But it is,” Kurt argued, putting a hand on the other teen's shoulder to stop him in his tracks. “Is that what your nightmare the other day was about? Because Blaine, we need to know each other, inside out, to be able to work together. We need to function like a well-oiled machine, we need to know what makes the other tick, we need -”

“ _We_ don't need anything,” Blaine growled and shoved Kurt off of him, walking off at a faster pace now and throwing over his shoulder, “I don't fucking need you, I told you that already. Now, if you wanna fuck, I'm not gonna say no, I'm sure your ass would look good enough sticking up in the air when I bend you over, but other than that, this is only a business partnership to me, and nothing else. Stop with the whole 'trying to be my friend' thing.”

Kurt remained rooted to the spot, clenching and unclenching his fists while he convinced himself that Blaine wasn't right, and that Blaine didn't need to be taught a lesson, as he had so eloquently put it. He'd only adhere to one piece of advice that conceited asshole had given him; he'd stop trying to be his friend.

 

_ **September 2011** _

 

“C'mon, is that the best you can do?” Blaine laughed breathlessly as he dodged yet another punch Kurt threw his way. Kurt gritted his teeth together and took a moment to center himself; the last few weeks had proven that Blaine was a much better adversary than he could even begin to fathom. Their sparring-matches ended in his favor more often than not, and Kurt blamed his years of boxing experience from long before he had been Called. When it came to strategizing, Kurt still unfailingly had the upper hand. Nick often commented on what a great team they'd make if they could manage to work together without “bickering like my grandparents”, but the pale teen did not feel like burying the hatchet he had against his “business partner”. So far, he had yet to hear one civil word come from Blaine's mouth since the night they'd patrolled the school – let alone an apology for his disrespectful behavior.

He went for an uppercut next, careful not to leave his side open as his arm cut through the air, but Blaine blocked it easily. “You're too slow and predictable,” he sighed, like he was bored, fucking _bored_ with fighting Kurt. Growling, the pale boy jabbed again, and again, and again, never actually managing to connect his fist with any part of Blaine's body that he wasn't using to block him. It was getting increasingly hard to keep his emotions in check and not just wail on the arrogant, gorgeous – no, not gorgeous, he chastised himself – boy.

“Hummel, I'm about to fall asleep here, seriously. I mean, maybe that's your strategy because then you'd actually land a punch but-”

CRACK. Blaine's taunting was interrupted by Kurt finally snapping and hitting home, literally, right in his face. He blinked in shock and pain before he moved to retaliate, but Kurt wouldn't let him get close; he blocked every single blow Blaine threw his way, and even managed to jab him a few more times in the process, his mind completely blank save for the urge to show him, to conquer him. When the other Slayer stumbled and fell to the ground, Kurt hurled himself on top of him, straddling his thighs so he couldn't bend and gain the leverage necessary to throw him off. He mimicked a stab to his chest, stopping his fist only a breath away from actually colliding. A smug grin blossomed on his face.

“You were saying?” he jeered, cocking his eyebrow at the boy below him, who scowled and squirmed, trying to get Kurt off of him, but the taller Slayer wouldn't budge, waiting for Blaine to admit his defeat.

“If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're enjoying yourself a bit too much up there. But you don't have to resort to physical force, babe, just say the word and I'll fuck that uptight virgin ass right open,” was everything he actually relented to say, however, and Kurt moved away from him as if he'd been scalded, his face red and contorted in rage.

“Why do you always do that? Why can't you just act like a normal human being? Do you think it's cool or funny or impressive to insult people wherever you go, or do you just genuinely enjoy being an asshole?”

Blaine sighed, long and exaggerated and way too calculated for Kurt's taste. It was like his behavior was part of a performance everywhere he went, like he knew exactly how to act to get whatever reaction he wanted out of people, and it set Kurt's teeth on edge.

“What can I say, baby?” His teeth gleamed in the artificial lights of the basement training camp Nick had sat up for them at his house. “I'm bad.”

Kurt stormed off to the kitchen with a roll of his eyes, closely followed by Nick, who had been silent up to this point.

“Patience,” his Watcher implored Kurt quietly, but the pale teen didn't want to hear it as he slammed his cup down on the counter with what was probably excessive force, judging by the fact that it broke upon impact.

“I can't help that that fucking jerk is chewing up and spitting out my very last nerve. And the worst thing is, he's doing it on purpose! I swear, if he was anything but another Slayer, I would've already knocked him from here to next Tuesday. And can you imagine that he's going to be going to school with me come Monday? I swear, part of me is _hoping_ he turns out to be evil.” His breathing was heavy and he was clutching the table in an attempt to not go back downstairs and go through with his heart's desire to kick Blaine's ass.

He was just about to open his mouth to continue with his rant when the sound of glass shattering echoed around them. Kurt's eyes immediately zeroed in on a letter attached to a stone on the floor – probably the thing that had broken the kitchen window. There was the sound of footsteps thundering up the stairs, Blaine coming to see what the sound had been about, and he registered Nick bending down to retrieve the envelope, but his eyes never left the shattered glass pane. He stepped closer to it to get a better look, but there was no one and nothing to be seen outside; the culprit had already made their exit.

Nick was frowning down at the piece of paper in his hands, mouthing the words he was reading, and Blaine was standing in the doorway, his huge hazel eyes skimming their surroundings, determining whether they were safe as he clutched a crossbow so tight, his knuckled turned white.

“What is it?” Kurt asked, wondering if the letter was written in some ancient language Nick didn't know as he took in how confused he looked. It was hard to find a language his Watcher didn't at least possess basic knowledge of, but it had happened before.

“It's in Tagalog, if I'm not mistaken. It just says 'come on'... I'm not sure here, maybe 'love bug? When are you coming home? Daddy misses you.' No names, nothing.”

A sharp intake of breath made Kurt look up at Blaine, who had gone white as a sheet. The crossbow fell from his limp grasp, making a racket as it hit the floor and he fled from the room.

“Shit,” the pale Slayer cursed under his breath and stormed after his counterpart. He found the door to his room locked and caught the faint noise of Blaine pulling out drawers, probably to empty them into his suitcase, as he muttered something to himself that Kurt couldn't quite make out.

“Blaine, I swear to God, open up that fucking door!” he yelled, rattling the knob, prepared to kick it down if he needed to.

“You don't understand, you don't understand... You don't understand, Kurt!” Blaine replied, to Kurt's utter amazement. He could have sworn the curly-haired teen had gone into some sort of catatonic state. “They found me, I can't stay here, it's too dangerous! Not only for me, but for you, and I can't risk it, I can't risk anything happening to you, I-”

They were, once again, interrupted by the sound of glass shattering, but this time it was followed by the lights flickering, casting shadows overhead before everything went black.

 


	4. The One You Once Looked Up To Has Fallen Into Dust

A feral growl rumbled from downstairs, followed by Nick's frantic voice yelling, “holy – help, Kurt, Blaine, HELP!”  
Kurt barely noticed Blaine's door flinging open before he himself was running downstairs. Once he reached the kitchen, he skidded to an abrupt halt, eyes widening at the sight before him.  
“Holy freaking fuck,” he whispered as he took in what looked like a huge hairy ball inexplicably dripping slime. Its extremities reminded Kurt of a cross between an orangutan and a dachshund, with long, beefy arms swiveling haphazardly at where Nick was cowering, and short, stout legs that looked like its thighs and half its calves had been chopped off. “God, that's the grossest thing I've ever seen.”   
As he stared, he heard Blaine make a noise next to him, bringing Kurt back from his disgust-induced trance. The taller teen grabbed for the closest weapon, which happened to be a butcher's knife, and immediately put himself in the path of the beast, which was still trying to get a good swing at Nick.  
“It's – it's a Chirago Demon!” Nick gasped from where he was still on the floor. “Watch out for the slime, it's paralyzing!”  
Kurt only registered his words at the precipice of his battle-focused mind, but understood enough to duck when a gooey fist nearly connected with his jaw, and stood back up, merely a foot away from the demon. An indescribable stench filled his nostrils, like rotten flesh but worse, and he suppressed a gag at the smell as he stabbed the knife forward. He felt the blade sink into its body with a squelching sound, followed by another roar. Pulling the knife out, he jumped aside just in time before the now enraged monster's arms punching at him hit home.  
Just as he prepared to dive back in and hopefully find the heart on his next stab, he saw Blaine jump up behind the creature, ax a-swinging. Its head fell to the floor with a dull thump, black gore spraying Kurt from where some kind of artery must have been severed in the process of beheading. He stood there, frozen in disgust as he felt it seep through his clothes. The weapon in Blaine's hands fell to the floor with a loud clank.  
“You're welcome. You can take care of the clean-up, I have to pack my stuff,” the other Slayer muttered and turned on his heel, ready to flee back upstairs, waking Kurt from his stupor.  
“W-what? Are you fucking serious? Get the hell back here!” he yelled, ignoring a paralyzed Nick to storm after Blaine, who, in turn, ignored him as he stuffed a load of clothes into his duffel bag. Kurt yanked at the bundle, trying to snatch it from Blaine, causing a shirt to rip down the middle where he and Blaine had both been tugging at it.  
“I saved your ass, the least you can do is to let me leave this hellhole in peace,” Blaine snarled.  
“I saved your ass before you even knew what ass-saving entailed, so the least you can do is tell me what the hell is going on!”  
Blaine looked at him like he was calculating his seriousness, pursing his lips with a scowl.  
“Go get cleaned up, you're stinking everything up with the smell of demon gore. I'll explain, but only if you promise to let me get the hell out of here afterward.”  
“You expect me to trust you not to bail the second I let you out of sight?”  
“Just... just do it, Kurt. I need a moment.” Blaine didn't look angry anymore when he sighed and swiped a hand through his hair; he just looked resigned, and tired, and far older than his 16 years, so Kurt just nodded, recognizing this was not the time to fight. He followed Blaine's suggestion and made his way to bathroom to shower off the sticky sensation of demon blood drying on his skin.  
When he emerged, dressed in his spare pair of sweatpants and a shirt he borrowed from Nick, Blaine was sitting on the bed quietly, eyes cast down to examine what seemed to be a very interesting piece of lint on the floor. Wordlessly, he sat down next to him, quietly expectant.  
“That demon… I’ve seen it before,” Blaine began. Kurt had about a thousand things on the tip of his tongue he wanted to say, to ask, and even to rage about, encouraged by suspicion and doubt simmering quietly below the surface, ready to boil over, despite the fact that he always tried to be fair and hear people out. Because this wasn’t a regular guy and this wasn’t only committing a crime as trivial as rash judgment he was risking – it was his life, and more importantly, his family’s lives at stake here. So instead of voicing any of this, he inconspicuously reached for the lamp on Blaine’s bedside table, taking a hold of it, ready to smash it over his head if necessary.  
Blaine either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He still wasn’t looking at Kurt, taking a few deep breaths before he spoke up again.  
“It… or at least their kind… work for my mother.”  
A beat of silence. And another. And another.   
And then Kurt had Blaine by the neck of his shirt with one hand, knocking him back on the bed and straddling his thighs much as he had earlier, the lamp held above his head with the other hand, prepared to strike at the first sign of endangerment. Blaine seemed to not have been anticipating that move; he made an “oomph!” noise and looked up at Kurt with surprise. However, he seemed to recover quickly, using the fact that the taller Slayer wasn’t restricting his arms to his advantage and knocking him off balance and, subsequently, off the bed. The lamp was flung from his clasp and shattered somewhere above his head, and before he could recover from the shock, Blaine was pouncing on him and – although Kurt was loathe to admit it – doing a much better job of holding him down than he himself had. He wiggled and writhed beneath the other Slayer, and when he didn’t succeed in freeing his arms or legs, he tried, to no avail, to buck him off with his hips. At this point, he was so desperately panicked, he didn’t even notice the proximity of their crotches in this position like he usually did, albeit with a lot of shame and barely disguised desire.   
“Will you fucking let me fucking explain?!” Blaine growled, tightening his grip on Kurt’s left wrist when he nearly triumphed and freed it. “Fucking hell, you always get down on me like,” he continued in a higher pitch, mimicking Kurt, mocking him, and ultimately, making him see stars with how angry he was, “Oh Blaine, why do you have to act the way you do? Why are you such a jerk? I really want you to fuck me but I’m such a prissy little bitch and I need to understand you first. Don’t think I don’t know your type,” he added in his normal voice, and didn’t give Kurt the chance to reply, which enraged him even further. “And then, the second I do try to open up a little, you fucking attack me? What the fuck is wrong with you?”  
“You just told me the demon who attacked us in Nick’s home works for your mother,” Kurt hissed and struggled in Blaine’s hold once more, trying to kick or punch or otherwise fight his way to freedom.  
“And did you ever think that maybe, just maybe, I’m not exactly on the best terms with my mother?” Blaine raved, and it was only then that Kurt noticed the eyeliner Blaine sometimes favored was smudged in tear tracks down his face. Immediately, he stopped struggling, figuring that he should save his strength for when he really needed it. The fact was that there really was a need for him to use his strength – he really didn’t like being trapped like he was – but in spite of what logic dictated he feel and do in his current predicament, he felt, in his gut, oddly and irrationally, like there was no real danger. Like he was, by all accounts, safe.  
“Sorry, I just… It’s my job to protect my family. It’s my job to protect so much more than that, but…” he whispered and trailed off, expecting Blaine to get off him, but the other boy was just looking down at him with an unreadable expression and then there was more silence, the kind that was so thick you could cut it with a knife with how loud and just… filled with anticipation it was, and Kurt waited with bated breath and a turning stomach, already expecting the worst.  
“My Dad was my hero when I was a kid,” the curly-haired boy suddenly broke into the quiet, just when Kurt thought he'd have to prod for him to speak. “I didn't want to be like him... I wanted to be him. He loved classic rock, so I asked for guitar lessons when I was five... so I could learn to play his favorite songs. He was so proud when I won this talent show in fifth grade, playing and singing Sweet Child O' Mine.” He laughed softly, and Kurt could tell they were fond memories flitting through his mind.   
Just as quickly as the soft expression came, it left his face again, replaced by a deep frown, directed at Kurt’s collarbone instead of his eyes. “My mom, though... She never wanted my older brother in the first place, but she was reasonably happy with how handsome and talented he turned out, so it wasn't so bad. And just when he was old enough that she could just push him off on the nanny, and just enjoy the cute parts while Juanita handled the hard stuff, she got pregnant with me. She was... less than thrilled, apparently.”  
Kurt wondered how Blaine knew this, wondered whether he'd just come to the conclusion or if his mother, or anyone in his family, had actually been cruel enough to relay this piece of information to him. He kept quiet, though, not willing to interrupt the truly miraculous event unfolding right before his eyes, the one he had almost kept from happening: Blaine opening up to him about more than what he'd like to do to Kurt in the bedroom.  
“When I came out 3 years ago, my Dad took it surprisingly well. I was terrified, because he was a man's man, you know?” Kurt smiled a bit at that and nodded, understanding full and well; Burt was strictly blue collar, loved sports, and beer and red meat and women, exactly what society would dub the perfect example of a man. “He was completely cool with it though, asking whether I'd be this serious if I had to come out as straight and assuring me that I had no reason to be scared. He didn't know that I actually did.”  
“Your mother...?” The other Slayer nodded, inhaling a deep, shuddering breath before he continued his saga.  
“She would get down on me for all kinds of things, playing too loudly, not cleaning up my room, which were normal things, but sometimes she'd yell at me for stuff like the way I fucking speared my food with my fork. And when she found out that I like boys, and not girls... she went fucking feral. She flung everything within reach at me, plates, vases, a chair... you name it.” The pale teen momentarily had to suppress a chuckle at the image of a tiny woman with wild curly hair like Blaine’s flinging a chair through the air, but immediately sobered up when he realized her 13-year-old son had been standing there as her target, probably scared out of his fucking mind. “She was screaming her lungs out about how I was an abomination and that I'd get AIDS and die painfully before I went to hell, and that it was all my own fault for being a fucking faggot, and that she should have had an abortion like she wanted to. Dad tried to reason with her, but she only turned on him instead, telling him that of course I'd want to be a little bitch instead of a man, the way he had been spoiling me. They had a huge fight, and she left the same night, and though Dad tried to tell me it wasn't, I knew it was my fault. It's all my fault,” he whimpered, the sound startling Kurt. Hesitantly, he pulled his hand from Blaine’s restraint, which had become lax as he retold his story, and placed it on Blaine's back, rubbing circles into his shoulder and deathly afraid he'd scare him off, but the younger teen seemed to revel in the soft touch. He shifted his gaze back up to lock with Kurt’s, his haunted, amber eyes far away as he reminisced.  
“A few months ago, she showed up on our doorstep one night. We hadn't heard from Mom at all since she'd left, but Dad took one look at me, told me to go to my room, and stepped outside with her. I had just been Called and I was... having trouble adjusting. That's to say, I went completely haywire, lashing out and talking back every chance I got,” he admitted with another chuckle, the noise mirthless as it resounded around them. His eyes got glassy as he went on.  
“I couldn't – I couldn't have known, I just, I heard them talking, and then a thump, and I ran downstairs because I was suddenly feeling sick to my stomach, and, and...” Suddenly, a sob racked Blaine's body. Kurt's eyes widened in response; before he really understood what he was doing himself, the pale teen had pulled the shorter one more solidly on top of him and into his arms, wrapping them around his torso, holding him tight. As Blaine turned his head into his shoulder and shook with the force of his sobs, Kurt idly thought that it was a good idea to settle for showing his compassion physically, what with the way Blaine had been so focused on the physical with him. His hand painted random patterns up and down the other boy's back and he kept whispering nonsensical flowers of speech, kept whispering, it's okay, it's okay, when he really didn't think it was or ever would be. His own mother had died when he was 8, but he knew without a doubt in his heart that she would've accepted him with open arms, had, in fact, already done so throughout the many eccentric interests he displayed as a child, never once telling him his behavior was inappropriate for a boy. He couldn't imagine not having that surety, or worse – finding out that his own mother would, in fact, reject him when he strayed from the norm.  
It was only when the neck and shoulder of his shirt were almost completely soaked through that Blaine pulled back, sitting up on top of him, so suddenly that Kurt could do nothing but emit a strangled sound and blink in surprise. The curly-haired boy cleared his throat, avoiding Kurt's gaze as he wiped a few stray tears from his face, the perfect picture of a heartbroken child donning the armor of a soldier twice his size, and Kurt wondered how long he’d kept this stuff bottled up inside.  
“S-sorry. It's just... there's more.” The monotone of Blaine's voice unsettled Kurt, if he was being honest, but he decided not to comment on it. “Uh... well... I got downstairs... And... my dad was lying outside on the porch. Pale as death, two puncture wounds on his neck, and it looked kinda... twisted. I never examined the body; I saw my mother, in – in her vampire form… She was lurking in the shadows… I don't think she knew I was the Slayer or she would've known I'd see her... and... I managed to haul the body inside before she could react. Then I threw up a few times and sat in the corner until dawn, when I knew it was safe for my Watcher to come over. I called her, and I think she... dunno... Apparated her way to my house.” Kurt would've laughed at the reference if he hadn't been crying by this point, not only his heart but his entire chest breaking for the boy. No wonder he was such an ass. Kurt vividly remembered what a jerk he’d become after he died for a few moments, the shock and the pain manifesting in irrational, exaggerated dramatics even other teenagers had shaken their heads at.  
“’s not everything,” Blaine’s hoarse voice spoke up, breaking Kurt from his reverie once more. “Two days after the funeral, I was patrolling, although Dawn, my Watcher, had told me to take the night off and that she’d take care of it. Naturally, I didn’t listen. So I walked around the cemetery and I stopped at my dad’s grave when the dirt began to move.”  
The pale teen legitimately gasped, knowing exactly what Blaine’s next words would be. “It’s alright, Blaine, you don’t have to tell me, I think I can guess,” he rushed out, reaching for Blaine’s hand. Blaine, however, pulled it away and just shook his head with a short, barking laugh.  
“No, you wanted to know, you have to sit through the whole story. I fucking lived it, Hummel, I live it every day. I think you can manage to hear it.” Kurt immediately shut his mouth and nodded, realizing that he had, indeed, been trying to spare himself the pain of listening to the rest of the story, not even capable of picturing the pain and fear, and never really wanting to anyway.  
“I was freaked the fuck out, as you can imagine. And I…” he inhaled sharply before he shook his head. “No, you know what? This was a mistake. All you needed to know was that my bitch of a mother was turned into a bitch of a vampire who’s out to get me, but your fucking… eyes and your fucking being you and looking like you do made me… oh fuck, I don’t even know.” Without a warning, the weight on top of Kurt lifted, and the taller teen sat up, feeling like he got whiplash from the sudden change in Blaine’s behavior but still grabbing Blaine’s arm when the other boy made to resume packing the few belongings he had into his duffel bag.  
“Made you what?”  
“Let the fuck go of me.”  
“Made you the fuck what, Blaine?” Kurt snapped, wiping his eyes again with his free hand but not adhering to his request, tightening his hold instead.  
“It’s just bullshit. I haven’t gotten laid in a while.”  
Kurt laughed to mask the hurt, the sound cheerless and bordering on derisive, and let go of Blaine like he’d been burned.  
“You know what? You can fucking go. I hate what happened to you, no one deserves what happened to you, but I can’t be around your – your toxicity anymore!”  
That made Blaine turn around, get up in Kurt’s face, but Kurt stood his ground.  
“Is that so?” A snarl, sending shivers down his spine, but he just turned his nose up and looked down at the shorter boy with disdain.  
“Yes. You’re not even a vampire, but you’re just as good at sucking the life out of everyone who dares to cross your path, who dares to challenge and demand something real from you! You run around, this stereotype of a 90’s badboy, with your mixed signals and tortured past and paralyzing fear of opening yourself up to the vaguest possibility of getting hurt and the crude exterior and insults, and boy, do I get that you’re just a scared little boy because I am, too, but that gives you no right –“  
Suddenly, his rant was cut off by a pair of lips on his own. Before he could register much, let alone respond, they were gone.  
“Made me feel like it was okay to be vulnerable, like it could be worth it if I let myself be vulnerable with you, that you wouldn’t pity me, but understand,” Blaine breathed, completing his sentence from earlier, before claiming Kurt’s lips in a kiss again, and this time, Kurt reciprocated, unable to fight the confused mess of desire and affection and frustration and anger warring with each other anymore, instead letting it bleed into the way his lips pressed against Blaine’s slightly chapped ones, the way his mouth moved and opened and let his tongue brush against Blaine’s, the way he wrapped his arms around his shoulders and leaned into Blaine’s touch when he held him around his waist.  
“There’s more,” Blaine admitted in between kisses.  
“Wanna tell me about it?” Kurt asked as he pulled back slightly, his face hot with a different kind of flush than the one he was used to, his chest heaving as he breathed shallowly, looking at Blaine’s face and almost moaning at the way he looked – swollen, red lips, dark eyes, nostrils flared as he, too, struggled for enough oxygen.  
“Not a priority right now.”  
Kurt accepted the answer as they, once again, met in a fierce lip-lock and tumbled down onto the bed together.


	5. If Given The Choice, Would You Do It Again?

Blaine wasted no time in climbing on top of Kurt again once the boy was horizontal. Instead of straddling him to keep him from moving, though, he took a hold of his knees, prying them apart and parting his thighs to settle between them. When he looked up at Kurt’s face for a moment, he groaned out loud at the sight that met him – milky skin stained with deep pink blotches of color, high on his cheeks and spreading over his neck and, Blaine was willing to bet, further down to where his shirt was covering his heaving chest. But the absolute best, most thrilling thing about it were his eyes. Blaine couldn’t really make out their color in the dark, although his memory did a great job of reminding him of their haunting beauty, but not even the lack of light could hide the sparkle of blatant desire with which they were regarding him.  
“Fuck… you really are a thing of beauty, babe.” With that statement, he leaned back down, sinking more firmly into his position between Kurt’s legs, and swiftly swallowed the moan the boy emitted in response by pressing their lips together in an open-mouthed kiss, his tongue peeking out to lick over the plush bottom lip before he thrust it in against his. Another whine was drawn into his mouth, the sound sending an electrical impulse down his spine and straight to his cock, and he involuntarily pushed it down hard against Kurt’s. Another groan unwittingly ripped from his throat against Kurt’s lips as the other Slayer gave off a guttural moan of his own. Suspecting what he did about Kurt, namely that he was the most virginal of virgins, Blaine decided to detach their mouths, despite the fact that every cell in his body screamed at him that that particular action went against every single one of his instincts.  
“Was that okay?” he rasped, only to receive a high-pitched whine in response, a pale hand lifting to tangle in his curls and tug him back down, connecting their lips once more, but Blaine quickly pulled away again, repeating the question.  
“Fuck, yes. That was more than okay. Please, Blaine…”  
And even though he still had doubts about Kurt’s readiness – who was he to deny the pretty boy beneath him, begging so prettily? Really, the second Kurt had said yes, it was like a wild animal had taken over his body, and lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of Kurt’s hair and yanking his head back as he decided it was time to taste his neck. He intertwined the fingers of their free hands and brought them up beside Kurt’s head as the boy himself tugged on Blaine’s curls every time he nipped at a particularly sensitive spot. Blaine soon discovered that Kurt loved when he sucked on the skin behind his ear, judging by the ferocity of his hair-pulling, and latched his lips to the spot more firmly, letting his teeth come out to nibble and using his tongue to soothe the mark he was sure would form there.  
“That’s going to be one hell of a hickey,” Blaine breathed in Kurt’s ear before he went on to trail his tongue over the shell, making him gasp and tighten his grip on Blaine’s hair and hand.  
“I’d kill you if I – mhm… fuck – didn’t love your mouth so damn much,” the taller boy admitted in an equally hushed voice.  
“Baby… I haven’t even begun to show you what my mouth can do. Trust me, when you let me blow you, it will restore your faith in God, even with all the ghastly things we see every day.”  
Kurt laughed breathlessly. “I’m curious, but maybe not yet. I’m not that easy, Anderson.”  
“Never said you were. But you will let me do this.” Blaine ground his cock against Kurt’s, noticing with delight that he wasn’t the only one who was fully hard by now, and elicited another moan from Kurt. The boy looked up at him, gasping, “yeah, that I can live with,” before wrapping his legs around Blaine’s waist instinctively and pushing up. Just like that, they began to move together in a slow, steady rhythm, Blaine’s hips rolling down to be met by Kurt’s bucking up. When their lips melded this time, it was hungry, the slide of them together wet and slick as their tongues met outside their mouths, as teeth nipped at lips and moans that wouldn’t be contained echoed around them. Blaine took a hold of both of Kurt’s wrists and pinned them down with one hand above Kurt’s head while his other hand wandered down the pale teen’s torso, his sides, his thighs, and finally, back up to his ass, taking a firm handful of the perky flesh and squeezing.  
Kurt tore his mouth away and threw his head back, sucking in a harsh gasp of air that he released on another drawn-out moan. Blaine took the opportunity to start sucking at his throat once more. He relished in the taste of salty skin and the other boy’s unique scent flooding his senses. It made his cock throb, and his hips ache to pick up speed, but he was determined to make this good for Kurt, was sure slow was what he wanted, until...  
“Fuck! Faster, please, please,” Kurt panted, speeding up the rhythm and throwing Blaine off for a second before he picked it back up with another moan and began meeting every one of Kurt’s upwards thrusts with a downward one of his own. Sweat was beginning to bead at his temples and his entire body felt taught, his veins like they were on flames, his balls were drawn up tight, ready to release, but he was determined to make the other Slayer cum first. His hand let go of Kurt’s and he buried it in his hair once more, pulling at the chestnut strands while Kurt rucked up his shirt and let his hands rest on Blaine’s shoulder blades.  
“Is this how you pictured it?” Blaine whispered huskily into Kurt’s ear. The pale teen whimpered as his arms and legs began to tremble. “Is this how you thought it would be, having me on top of you, me and my hard cock making you feel better than you thought you ever would?” He thrust down harder than before and Kurt cried out, thrashed around as his fingers scratched down Blaine’s back, and the action sent a hot current straight to his crotch, fueling the words coming out of his mouth.  
“I bet you imagined we’d be doing this naked. I bet you imagined so much more than this…”  
Kurt’s mouth fell open and his eyes screwed shut as his entire body tensed.  
“I bet you would love nothing more than for me to fuck your tight, perfect ass.”  
Blaine watched in awe as Kurt came, felt him arch beneath him and the hot pulse of his dick against his, heard as he cried out sharply, just once, before the sound tapered off into soft moans of “Blaine, Blaine, Blaine,” and with that, Blaine could finally let go, could finally let the knot in his abdomen explode and the blistering pleasure shoot up his shaft and through his body with a long, loud groan of Kurt’s name.  
They stayed like this for a minute, locked in their embrace and panting against the other’s mouth, until Kurt suddenly pushed hard at Blaine’s shoulder and sent him tumbling off of him to the other side of the bed. The dark-haired boy looked at Kurt with wide eyes, his mind still reeling too much from the best… well, sexual encounter he’d ever had to understand what was going on.  
Blaine watched Kurt’s lithe form sit up, watched him rest his elbows on his knees and bury his face in his hands, still not really understanding the problem, although it was starting to dawn on him.  
“I can’t believe this happened.”  
It was just a murmur – Kurt probably never intended to say it out loud – but that didn’t make it hurt any less. To ward off the unpleasant feeling bubbling up in his chest, Blaine hopped off the bed and forced out a laugh, turning his back on Kurt as he marched towards the bag he’d packed earlier.  
“Come on, baby, you didn’t seriously think you could resist me forever, did you?” he countered as he dug around for a clean pair of underwear. “Honestly, I am astounded at how good you are at lying to yourself.” He looked over his shoulder at the pale teen with his trademark smug grin, though he probably didn’t notice as he seemed to be frozen in his position. “And now that you got a taste… well, suffice it to say, this is only the beginning.”  
Kurt looked up, his eyes blazing, his brow furrowed and his lips in a thin line. He was obviously angry, but it didn’t stop Blaine’s breath from hitching at his beauty. “No, no, no, this is the end. No more. This is never, ever, ever happening again, you hear me?” he replied, his voice as fierce as the look of determination on his face. “And if you ever tell anyb–“  
He was cut off by a shout from downstairs. “If you boys are done and decent, could one of you please come help me?” Nick’s voice rang through the house. “I was paralyzed in a rather uncomfortable position.”  
The look Kurt shot him before he left, despite the spots of pink reappearing on his cheeks and the wince of discomfort when he stood, made Blaine feel like he had been sucker punched. He didn’t really understand why it hurt so much – or maybe he did, but didn’t want to acknowledge it – but suddenly, he felt really bad for every boy he’d ever walked out on.  
Whatever, he thought to himself, pressing down on his chest with one hand against the pressure he suddenly felt in there, like it was ready burst, and swallowing a couple of times to get rid of the lump in his throat as he made his way to the bathroom for a quick shower. I’ve never needed anyone and I sure as hell won’t start now.  
As soon as he was done, he grabbed his bag and quietly snuck downstairs. He thought he heard his name being dropped in the murmured conversation the other Slayer and his Watcher were having, but he didn’t stick around to find out. Instead, he closed the door behind him silently and took off into the night.

. . .

“I cannot believe you, you, did… that! With him,” Nick hissed as Kurt carried him to the couch, which he had laid out with cut up trash bags so the Watcher wouldn’t soil the fabric of the vintage piece of furniture with Chirago slime. He looked up at the ceiling when the sound of the shower stopped.  
“I don’t think you’re in a position to judge me when I’m carrying you around like the baby you are.”  
“Kurt, I’m serious! What were you thinking?”  
“I wasn’t!” the Slayer whisper-shouted, chancing a quick glance into the hall to check whether Blaine was standing there before he continued. “Blaine… kind of shanghaied me.”  
“He forced you?”  
“No, it means he is very attractive and I was so taken aback when he kissed me, I didn’t give it a second thought. Could we stop talking about this now? I’m hate myself enough as it is; you don’t need to add to that.”  
Nick sighed. “I’ll stop… for now. Don’t think you’re off the hook though. What you and Blaine did was reckless and you cannot afford for it to influence your dynamic on the field. It’s –“  
“Kill or be killed out there, I know, and if I lose focus for one second, it may very well lead to the first.” Kurt stood up straight after depositing his Watcher on the Couch and took a deep breath, glancing at the stairs again before he exhaled slowly. “I guess I should… make amends, or set things straight, or whatever. There’s something else going on, you know, concerning the demon, and I think it would be best if it came from Blaine, not me.”  
The pale teen rushed up the stairs with a thumping heart. He knew he’d been the one to cast Blaine off, but that didn’t mean that having to look at him immediately after was any easier. His friends in Glee Club usually had more time to regroup after a… hook-up so he had no secondhand experience in how Blaine, or he himself, would react. And it didn’t help at all that he knew that that was all it was. A meaningless hook-up. He didn’t care about Blaine’s past when it came to this, because he’d still let a grade A douchebag, who thought of seduction and sex as a sport, have one of his firsts.  
He was still lost in thought when he reached Blaine’s door and found it wide open. Without a second thought, he charged inside, his stomach twisting up with nerves and bad premonitions and sure enough: He found the room cleaned out. No sign of the bag or Blaine. For a moment, he spun around, hoping against hope that he’d find him standing in the doorway, smirking and about to spout off some obnoxious bullshit, or even that he’d jump up from behind the shelf with a “boo!” but he knew.  
Blaine was gone.  
The Slayer flew back downstairs, found his phone, ignored Nick’s confused questions and dialed the familiar number.  
“Hello? Sorry to wake you. I need your help. I need you to do a Locator spell. The human variety. Can you come to Nick’s?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short one. But yay, smut! Also, I'd love to hear your guesses on who Kurt called so comment, please :) (kudos/any kind of feedback is very appreciated. I'm not really satisfied with this chapter.)


End file.
